


Happy Hippie Harmony in the Woods

by KitsJay



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Gen, kinkmeme fill, so hey guess what I was the Christmas anon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:17:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsJay/pseuds/KitsJay
Summary: Monroe's house becomes a refuge for the strange and wesen. His parents are worried.





	Happy Hippie Harmony in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at the kinkmeme.

"Son," Monroe's dad said gravely. He was an older man with lines criss-crossing his face, still lean and hardened by the sun. He wore a plaid button-up shirt and blue jeans. "We need to talk."

His mom's eyes were puffy and red, like she had been crying, and she nodded in agreement.

"Uh, sure, Dad," Monroe said, tossing his mind to figure out what this was about.

"We've heard... rumors, son," his dad started, and Monroe could tell he was uncomfortable with whatever he was talking about. "About your lifestyle."

"We still love you," his mom interrupted, grabbing Monroe's hand in hers. It was warm and he squeezed it before letting it go and scratching the back of his head.

"Um," Monroe said, puzzled. "I thought we had talked about this. I don't kill people anymore--"

His mom and dad grimaced.

"Not that," his dad said gruffly. "The _other_ lifestyle choice you're making."

Monroe stared blankly.

His mom started crying.

His dad pressed his lips together in a thin line.

Seconds ticked past.

"Uhh," Monroe said, just to fill the awkward silence. "You're going to have to elaborate."

"Dammit, son," his dad growled. "This whole nonsense!"

His mom was still softly crying, and Monroe felt guilty even though he still had no idea what was going on. He put an arm around her and shushed her, "Don't cry, mom, don't cry, please?".

"Honey, we can help you," his mom said sincerely, cradling his face in her hands. "We can get you to a deprogrammer, they'll help you, I promise."

"Deprogrammer?" His mind stalled. "Run that past me again?"

"This cult, or hippie commune, or whatever you want to call it," his dad said, temper rising. "It's a damn fool thing to do. How do you know that leader--that Grimm--isn't just preachin' peace and prosperity to lure you into a trap? Damn fool thing to do."

"I think you have the wrong impression--" Monroe started, just as there was a knock on the door. He stared at his parents. "Uh. Excuse me."

He opened the door a quarter of an inch, glaring balefully at whoever had the worst timing in the world--and honestly, there was only one person who that could be.

"Really not a good--" He stopped short, seeing Roddy standing there awkwardly.

"Can I come in?"

Monroe heard his parents still talking in the other room and turned wide eyes at Roddy. "This really isn't a good time."

"I know, but I need to practice my music and dad's driving me crazy and you said that I could stop by anytime--"

Monroe opened the door wider to explain to him what was going on when another teenager popped up and pushed her way past, wide smile on her face.

"Hey, Monroe!" she chirped cheerfully.

"Holly," he said dazedly. "Uhh--"

Before he could gather his thoughts, they both had pushed past him and were rummaging in his kitchen for snacks. Since the two of them had started coming over--Roddy for music lessons, Holly for blutbad lessons--he had to restock his pantry nearly every day. Teenagers were worse than locusts.

"Guys, I--"

He trailed after them, only to find his dad and mom staring in shock at the two kids, his mom with one hand covering her mouth, and his dad with a glowering expression.

"This isn't what it looks like," Monroe said.

His mom burst into tears again, hiding her face in the front of her husband's flannel shirtfront. He awkwardly tried to pat her back as she wailed, "Where did we go wrong, Henry? Where?" She whirled on Monroe, shaking a finger. "I raised you better than this!" Her anger waned. "My poor baby boy! You were supposed to marry a nice blutbad girl, give me grandchildren and now--"

She sobbed.

"I promise, I can explain all of this in a perfectly rational--"

There was another knock on the door.

"Oh God," Monroe said. He ran to answer the door and opened it to find Nick standing on his porch, looking appallingly innocent, as if he weren't responsible for this entire mess. He hissed, "You're a menace."

Nick blinked. "What?"

"I have two parents in there who think I'm running some kind of hippie commune in here, my mom keeps crying, and there are two teenagers running through a week's worth of food supply in my kitchen."

"Holly and Roddy are here?" Nick asked casually.

Monroe stared at him. " _That's_ what you got from that?" He realized he had left them alone in the kitchen and panicked. "Hold that thought."

He raced back to find his dad and mom growling, teeth bared, and Holly standing protectively in front of a terrified Roddy, face transformed. Her eyes were glowing red.

"No, no!" Monroe rushed between them, holding up his hands. "Stop."

His parents shook off their game faces, Holly reluctantly following suit. Roddy's flickered before it resolved back into a scared teenage kid, desperately looking around for an exit.

"Hello?" Nick said, wandering in. Monroe debated just collapsing on the floor and waving the white kitchen towel of surrender or seeing if he couldn't make his own quick get away.

" _Grimm_!" his dad growled, eyes immediately flaring red.

His mom, surprisingly, was the one who intervened. "Don't you dare, Henry. Remember your blood pressure!"

"But Mary," his dad said, still staring at Nick, who had his hand hovering over his weapon.

"Stop, okay!" Monroe sighed. "Mom, Dad, this is Roddy, a kid I'm giving music lessons to, and this is Holly, a... friend."

"A friend? _She can't be more than seventeen_ , Edward Frederick Monroe!" his mother said, righteous anger in her voice.

It took a second for that one to sink in before Monroe began desperately waving his hands. "NO! Mom, NO! Her parents don't know she's blutbad. I've just been helping her out, teaching her who she is."

"Oh," his mom said faintly. Her eyes suddenly widened and she looked at Holly, who was still standing as if she expected to be attacked. "Oh. You poor dear!"

His mom rushed over, clucking at Holly's hair, which she had a tendency to leave uncombed, and fretting at her. "You're so _thin_!"

"Mom," Monroe sighed exasperatedly. Roddy was inching toward the door, hoping to be unnoticed now that there was a handy distraction. Holly was glaring at him balefully and Roddy froze, torn between facing a houseful of blutbaden now or one _very angry_ teenage girl blutbad tomorrow.

His dad was still glaring at Nick, a low growl building his throat.

"Dad, Mom, this is Nick," said Monroe. "He's not like other Grimms, I promise."

"A Grimm is a Grimm," his dad said.

Nick snorted and Monroe really wanted to tell him that was _not helping_. "And all blutbaden are alike, right?"

"Shut _up_ , Nick," Monroe said. Nick opened his mouth to say something, but subsided when he saw Monroe's warning glance. He turned back to his dad, who was watching the exchange with something strange in his eyes.

"I'd heard rumors," his dad admitted. "That this one was different, but..."

"He is, Dad."

"Mr. Monroe," Roddy interrupted, looking terrified, but trying to cover it up gamely with bravado. Monroe felt kind of proud looking at him, hands shaking and voice wavering like a string on his violin, but eyes alight. "Nick's a good guy. I was told the same stories about Grimms, but he's okay."

"And what about you, boy?" his dad said sternly.

Roddy squeaked. "What about me, sir?"

"What kind of music you play?"

"Violin, sir," Roddy said.

"Really?" Henry's eyes lit up. "Love the violin. Always wanted to play it myself. You know any Dvorak?"

"Yes, sir," Roddy said cautiously.

His dad beamed. "Good! Maybe you can play me some 'fore Mary and I head on out."

As they watched the growing bond, his mother bustling around the kitchen to make her famous mac'n'cheese'n'greenbean casserole to feed the poor, starving teenagers ("Starving?" Monroe echoed until Nick nudged him in the ribs), his dad excitedly talking with Roddy about violin music and school while Roddy looked like he was about to pass out, Monroe groaned.

"What?" Nick said, surveying the scene with something akin to pleasure at seeing everyone getting along. Monroe shot him a dirty look before looking back at the tableau of surreal domesticity.

"Look at this," Monroe said. "Look at what you got me into."

Nick clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "Yup. Nice, isn't it?"

And though he would never, _ever_ admit it to Nick, who already had a bad habit of dragging Monroe into situations that he never wanted to be, Monroe had to admit: it kind of was nice.

Happy hippie harmony, he thought with a sigh.


End file.
